


our luck is good tonight

by kingkaiserin



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, but doesn't know what to do with them, roman has a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23901340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingkaiserin/pseuds/kingkaiserin
Summary: Our favorite duo steals a moment or two alone during a charity gala. Roman is equal parts horny and emotional and like always, Gerri is there to save the day.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	our luck is good tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This took a rather different turn than I thought it would- I tried to write something fun and it got a little more emotional than I thought. 
> 
> The title is from "The King and Queen of America" by the Eurythmics which i listened to obsessively while writing this. Special thanks to tumblr user lesbianmoomin's Gerri/Roman spotify playlist for bringing that into my life. 
> 
> I really can only write these little one-shot pieces because I do not have the prowess for writing multi chapter works. Are these terrible? Should I stop? If any of y'all have suggestions or prompts please let me know! :)

The sounds of the party faded to a dull murmur as the lock clicked on the door behind them. Gerri and Roman had managed to sneak off from the gala they were attending (separately, of course) and break into an office a on the same floor as the ballroom. Roman made a mental note to follow up on just how exactly Gerri knew how to pick a lock with a hairpin she had expertly pulled from her elaborate updo. 

“I’ll pay you the full balance of my bank account to stab my eyes out so I don’t need to go back in there.” Roman slumped into a chair and ran his hands through his hair. He had been coerced into attending this god-awful charity ball for refugees with rabies (could that be right?) or some equally annoying cause. 

“It’s tempting Rome, but then how would you see to put me out of my misery.” His breath hitched at the nickname, as it did every time. He had been on his best behavior all night but now, away from prying eyes, they could be themselves. They held a delicate balancing act but he had been trying to play by Gerri’s rules most of the time. This was directly related to the fact that he had maybe, sort of, a little bit “embarrassed” her at work and she hadn’t talked to him for three days. 

But when she did start talking to him again? Fuck. His face flushed at the memories. 

He focused on Gerri once again as he saw her pull something out of the oversized clutch she had brought. A fucking flask, of course. She took a long pull from the silver container and held it out for Roman. He closed the few feet between them and took his own drink. The whisky burned as it slid down his throat. He passed the flask back and Gerri brought it to her lips once again.

Roman took advantage of the seconds Gerri’s eyes were closed as she drank to ogle her once again. She was wearing a dress he hadn’t seen before. It was a plum chiffon with a tight, off the shoulder bodice that opened to a flowing skirt. He wanted to bury his face in it. 

What was it about her that made him so crazy? Why did seeing her like this throw him off his axis so fundamentally.

After a moment she pulled the flask from her lips and opened her eyes. Roman let out a low hum when he saw a drop of the whisky hang from her lower lip. Never in his life had Roman felt an urge to kiss another human more than in that moment. Kiss wasn’t even a strong enough word. Roman wanted to devour her. 

“Why the fuck do you think you get to look at me like that?” Gerri taunted, using the power she knew she held over him to send him reeling. 

Without hesitation, Roman dropped to his knees before her. He felt like his soul was straining at his skin as he looked up at Gerri, so totally under her control. She was his altar. He was a willing supplicant. 

“You sick little fuck, can’t even make it through one night out without throwing yourself at my feet. What are we going to do with you?” She took a step closer to him and he could smell her- that expensive perfume and the essence under it that was all her own. He whimpered and his body craned toward her involuntarily.

“What would your family say if they could see you right now?” Gerri was inches away from him and Roman knew he could cease to exist right then and there and it would be worth it. She continued her tirade, “Not even a charity function can stop Roman Roy’s addiction to his own self satisfaction- who cares about the impoverished and the sick? Not this little piggy."

She set her hand on his head, holding him in place. Roman was torn between the desire he felt quickly overcoming his senses and trying to stay lucid enough to savor the moment. He searched Gerri’s face, forcing himself to memorize the way she was looking at him.

Though he could barely admit it to himself, this was the face his mind conjured to bring him out of his lowest lows. On the nights he spent curled up in the corner of his bathroom with dark thoughts oozing out of every part of him at least Roman could remember the way Gerri looked as she held his existence in her hands. He would imagine her there with him and then the bad and ugly didn’t rip him completely apart.

Without realizing it, Roman’s eyes had fluttered closed as he struggled to shut out the hot, suppressive shame that always bit and burned at the edges of his mind. Gerri’s hand was firm in his hair when she took hold and pulled his head back so he was looking into her eyes.

Roman hissed at the sensation and felt his arousal grow to fever pitch. He couldn’t keep himself quiet, a soft keen passing by his lips. To quell the sound, Gerri pushed two fingers into Roman’s mouth. 

That was all Roman needed. He closed his lips, sucked, and with a shudder he was spent. Gerri pulled her fingers from his mouth with a “pop.” With still damp fingers she grabbed him by the chin and angled his face up toward hers once again. 

“All better?” 

Roman did feel very much better, in fact. However, at that exact moment he was still not capable of coherent speech so he had to settle for nodding lamely. 

He gingerly rose to his feet and stood awkwardly with one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Finally finding his voice he laughed and proclaimed, “if only I could go back out there and tell all those old fogies licking their lips and staring you up and down what you’re really like…” He trailed off as he tried to readjust his now rather uncomfortable trousers. 

“It’s your funeral if you do.”

Gerri crossed to him with determined steps. She pressed her lips to his cheek, hard. It was tender and purposeful. It said “I’m here- _we’re _here.” Her lips were soft and Roman could swear he could feel his heart in his throat.__

__Gerri’s mouth was still hovering next to his ear when she whispered “Go clean yourself up.” He could hear the smirk that he knew was playing across her face as she said it._ _

__Later, he would fantasize about turning his head and kissing her for real. He would imagine what it would be like to let out all of the writhing, bubbling declarations that lay just behind an ever-shrinking wall of fear. These thoughts brought with them equal parts terror and excitement. It was nearly 2am and he knew it was a bad idea but Roman pulled out his phone anyway. He tapped her contact and the line trilled. No good ever came after 2am, at least that’s what his mother had told him._ _

__“What the fuck, Roman.” Gerri’s sleep heavy voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Who listened to mothers anyway?_ _


End file.
